


Life and Times

by peppymint



Category: Highlander and White Collar crossover
Genre: Gen, Methos & Neal C.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-23
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppymint/pseuds/peppymint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of one Neal Caffrey, from his birth to first death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life and Times

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

  
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_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

 _Inspired by the works of wild wolf free17_

 _Before that I never even considered this crossover_

  
**Life and Times**   


It was a cool evening in November when a man and a woman looked down at their new son. The infant who would one day be known as Neal Caffrey. He was a cute little guy, ten fingers, ten toes. With a button of a nose and the most brilliant blue eyes either of them had ever seen. However, there was nothing to indicate the newborn was anything special. No hint that this boy was destined to be _someone_.

Three years later his Father didn't come home. The boy was confused, but he was still far too young to realize what that meant. Both for him, and for the family that would never be whole again. Eventually he stopped asking where his Dad was. And awhile later he began to forget all about the man who used to sneak him treats while his Mother pretended not to see.

The boy was six when his Mother spun him a tale of a heroic police officer who died in a hail of gunfire. Saving his comrades lives. Obviously no one had ever told the woman to keep her lies simple. It would have been better in the long run if she had told her son that his Father had died in an accident. Who knows what might have happened then.

By the time the lad with the bright blue eyes was nine. He knew he wanted to be a police officer. He watched cop shows, studied books, and snuck into the local dojo so he could practice the moves on his own time. They didn't have the money for lessons and any extra went towards alcohol so the woman could numb her pain.

When he was eleven he had realized just how screwed up his family was. Assuming two people counted as a family. But at the same time he knew he was lucky. His Mom had never hit him, didn't bring home strange men, and food came before booze and not the other way around. It could have been a lot worse.

At thirteen his dreams were shattered as an officer callously told him the truth. That his father was a criminal, worse then that. A dirty cop. His entire life had been a lie. That was the day he ran with nothing but the clothes on his back, some food, and a bit of money. In retrospect, it hadn't been the brightest move. But all teenagers do stupid things.

A year and a half later he picked the wrong pocket, though in later years he would maintain that it hadn't been his fault. Anyone would have made the same mistake. For a moment bright blue eyes had meet golden brown ones before the man said, not asked, but said that he would be staying. And that the kid could call him Adam.

The teenager ran the moment the man's back was turned. Not knowing and not wanting to know just what Adam wanted with him. For all he knew the guy was a pedophile. He didn't make it far. He woke up right back where he had started.

That is when the lessons began. Lessons on what someone needed to know, Adam said. Not on what society believed they should. The teenager was stubborn, he didn't give up easily. He tried to run again, and again. But the man always found him. It took awhile before he realized this was a lesson too. That each time it took more and more skill for him to escape.

By the time he was sixteen the young man had decided he didn't really want to leave. But he tried to run anyway. It was tradition by now. That was also the year he discovered his teacher's secret. That he was an Immortal.

When he was eighteen the young man, now called Neal, asked if he were pre-immortal, unsurprised by the answer. After all, he had already known. What he did not ask was if Adam would have taken him in if he hadn't been. He knew the answer to that as well.

Neal left soon after that with his teacher's blessing. He didn't have a past, only a future. The young man hadn't been in New York a week before meeting Mozzie. The paranoid conman teaching him everything he knew. Later the lessons being supplemented by their mark, Vincent Adler. He never told either of them just how much of it he had already known.

He also fell in love for the first time that year. With Kate, beautiful Kate, with her dark hair and blue/gray eyes. He never should have gotten her involved. He knew that. But even then, he hadn't been able to let her go.

Three more years and Peter finally caught up to him. Offering Kate up as bait. He had known it was a trap, but he didn't care. And really, bond forgery. That was nothing compared to his list of alleged crimes. He would serve his time, get out, and then they would live happily ever after. She had promised she would wait for him.

Only it didn't work out that way. The music box, that damn music box. Neal wished he had never even heard of the cursed thing. It wasn't worth what he had lost. He and Peter stopped Adler of course. The man had made a mistake when he set in motion the events that would bring that partnership together. But that didn't change the fact Kate was dead, and that she wasn't ever coming back.

Neal was twenty-eight years old when the tracking device came off. They had reduced his sentence for good behavior. Okay, it was more his results than his behavior that tipped the balance. Peter had been afraid, the con knew. Afraid that he would vanish and never return. It would have been easy.

But he didn't. He stayed. There had been a million different places he could have gone, but no where else he really wanted to be. He tried to become Neal for real instead of it being just another alias. Albeit his favorite. The ex-con who had redeemed himself. The FBI was more then willing to give him his old job when he asked. Only this time he actually got paid.

At the age of thirty-two, Neal Caffrey died after throwing himself in front of a bullet meant for Peter Burke. He didn't regret it. Not really, though he did regret that he would have to leave them all behind. Regretted the pain his death would cause them.

Nor was he afraid to die. He knew that when he awoke again, Adam would be there. A new name, a new life, and a whole 'nother set of lessons. These ones of life and death.

 _Originally part of this was going to be the prologue for a chapter story_

 _But I have too many of those already. So a one-shot it will remain._

 _Unless of course someone wants to take up where I left oft._


End file.
